


The supernatural equation

by livestolearn



Category: Numb3rs, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Eventual Romance, M/M, Numb3rs canon divergence season 6, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, SPN Post Series 11 AU, implied wincest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-09-12 22:45:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9094072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livestolearn/pseuds/livestolearn
Summary: Don and Charlie find themselves on a case with supernatural themes.Sam and Dean stumble upon a case in California.Ian brings them together and from there the story flows.
Please read and review :) Thanks for reading!





	1. The Case

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers up to end of season 11   
> I don't quite know where this is going yet I'm letting the brothers guide me. I do know who I want to get together (Sam and Charlie, Don and Dean) but they are resisting their love connections so I might have to change things up eventually, we'll see. I know that I have a few plot ideas but this one is far less thought out than my usual post. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think so far. The first few chapters will be up today then I'll have to get moving on the rest and hope it works out.

“Dean, I think I got one.”

“Yeah? What kind of crap did you find this time? The last four so called cases from you have turned up bupkis. I’m starting to suspect that you just wanted a vacation!”

“This one though...” Handing over a newspaper report with a smirk.

Grabbing the document out of his brother’s hand. The headline read; ‘ _Terror Gripping Pasadena Neighborhood_.’

“Nine unexplained violent deaths in the past six month. Each victim has been ritually carved up. Parts have been displayed near the ceiling. The bones are in another pattern on the floor. Vic’s innards are strung out in a circle around the symbols.”

“This sounds like some sick bastard human.”

He handed over an LAPD crime info sheet. “It does until you check the police reports. The body parts, skin, eyeballs, ears, you know the tiny bits are suspended an inch below the ceiling by no know means. It literally says the bits appear to be floating in midair.”

Dean leaned forward and read the report more thoroughly. “It looks like whatever is doing this is performing some kind of ritual.”

“Exactly.”

“We need to get there to find out what those symbols are. That’ll give us an idea of what we’re dealing with.”

“So we’re going? You think it’s a case?”

“Yes Sam. I think it’s a case.”

“God, what’s with you?”

“Nothing. Just grab your shit and get moving would you.”

S#S#S#S

“Anything yet Charlie?”

“No.”

“It’s been months. The bodies are dropping buddy. Come on.”

“Don I’m doing the best I can. I’m no further today than I was yesterday. The viscera and other parts are laid out in some type of symbol we think. There are people looking into it for me. There’s some type of pattern to the dates, times, and locations of the killing but I can’t predict it because it’s not fitting the probabilities. All I can tell you is that someone is going to die tonight at 11:59 somewhere in this very neighborhood. Has dad left yet?”

“Yes. He’s gone to stay with a buddy in Texas. Golfing I think.”

“What about everyone else? Are you guys evacuating?”

“No. That would cause panic and move the perp to another community. We’d lose him.”

“But...”

“I know Charlie. Look just keep working we’ve got another six hours. Maybe you can come up with something.”

Charlie leaned against his chalk board, fingers and hair covered in dust. A streak of white powder across his forehead. He was exhausted and very confused. Nothing about this case made sense. There was obviously a very sick individual working in the blocks surrounding his childhood home and he could do nothing to stop it. “I’ve never hoped that a ritual would have come to a conclusion so much.”

“I know. Don’t worry Charlie we’ll get him. Look, I want you to work at CalSci tonight. Or come to my place. You can’t stay here. It isn’t safe.” Charlie grumbled and groaned then packed up his work and left for work.    


	2. Solved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean prove their worth to a skeptical Don and Charlie

Sam and Dean drove into the hot zone just as the sun was setting. They were scanning the houses and businesses they passed for an address. An abandoned garage with no owners, that was where they’d set up shop until they managed to take this thing out.

“It’s awfully quite.” Sam said as they jimmied the lock of their new abode. He opened the garage door. Dean drove past him killing the engine.

“It’s also crawling with cops. Get in here would you, before someone sees you.” Setting up house in this community was a lot more complex than simply laying out bedding. The brothers set to work laying out salt, hex protection bags, devils traps, and protective runes. They didn’t want to be the next victim. At least they didn’t want to be targeted _before_ they knew what they were up against. In short order, they had protected themselves, blacked out the windows, hooked up electricity, and got their books out. Dean cracked open a beer and watched his brother clicking away on his laptop.

“Well, the feds are all over this one. We’re gonna have to be careful. I really want to stay dead this time.”

“yer telling me. So what’s the game plan?”

“Why don’t you start looking for demonic omens and I’ll start mapping out the deaths to see if there’s a pattern.”

“Yeah, sounds good. I’m also gonna make a few calls. We have a few friends at the FBI that might be able to give us a cover.”

“You talking Reid? Or Edgerton?”

“Edgerton. Reid’s BAU team is already suspicious of his ‘new friends.’” The room dropped into silence as they began compiling data. They worked long and hard, Sam’s map and victim wall blossomed and Dean had eliminated demons as suspects when Dean’s phone buzzed.

“Hello?” He paused, listening to whomever was on the other line. “Yeah. We think so.” Pause again, Sam was now paying attention. “No way? Tonight?” Another pause longer this time. Dean gave their current address and hung up. “Expect a knock on the door in a minute. There was another killing tonight.”

“Damn.”

“Edgerton wants us in on this. Said it’s definitely up our ally. He’s literally three doors down from us.”

“No way...” Sam gasped.

A knock, then a pause, another knock. Coded knocking, Edgerton’s favorite way of communicating, Dean thought. He jumped up and yanked open the door. The sniper slipped in looking grim. He took in the maps, the wall of victims, and smiled a small feral smile. “Good, you’re mostly caught up.”

“We still haven’t seen any crime scene photos, or gotten a detailed account of the deaths.”

“You’ll have them. We need you both on this. In the open.”

“Are you nuts?” Dean jumped up.

“I trust the team I’m linking you with. They’ll protect you.”

“Right up until we say this is hoodoo or a poltergeist.”

“Look. This team is gonna catch you looking into this no matter what. They’re that good. So I’m bringing you in officially before they arrest you for crawling around a scene. You are my experts in the occult I’ve been talking up for a month while we hunted this thing.”

“But we didn’t...”

“I knew you’d show up eventually. I even warned a few other hunters off last week. I trust you two, I don’t trust anyone else.”

“You can keep them off us? We’re trying to avoid the top five.”

“I can. Let me make a call, I’ll get the lead over here. He’s worked with psychics before, believes in God, and ghosts. He just hasn’t had direct experience with monsters.”

Sam and Dean exchanged looks. An entire conversation flowed between them in that glance. Was it worth the risk? What would it gain them? Could having another team on their side help them? It boiled down to yes. They’d meet this guy. Sam nodded to Edgerton, who promptly made his call.

“Eppes, my experts have arrived. I need you to come alone and with an open mind.”

Minutes later Don knocked in code on the door. He slipped in and just like his counterpart, did a full scan of the location. Taking in the salt by the windows, devils traps on the ceiling, symbols painted onto the floor. Then, his eyes rested first on Sam, then Dean. “What the hell?” He involuntarily reached for his gun.

“Recognized ‘em did ya?” Ian grinned. “They aren’t what their file says.”

“Yeah? I ought to call them in right now! How do you know they aren’t the killers here?”

Sam slipped around to block the entrance, his gun drawn. Dean made himself a target. Ian stepped between them. “Edgerton?” Dean said dangerously.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist Eppes. They’re the good guys and we need ‘em.” Don turned and spotted Sam blocking the door. He looked into the kid’s eyes and saw a world of pain.

“We don’t want to hurt you.” He said, “We’re here to help.”

Don kept his eyes on the youngest brother, the one who’d managed to sneak past him. “How?”

“We hunt this stuff. It’s our job to understand the supernatural.”

“Ok. Say I buy that. Why are you on the most wanted list?”

“We hunt the biggest bad things out there and they kill a lot of people, which attracts a lot of attention. Particularly law enforcement. When we show up and get involved with the case we end up suspects because we hang out at crime scenes, question witnesses, and ultimately take out the monster. People start to ask questions.” Sam explained, hoping he didn’t sound as bored with the explanation as he felt. He was getting sick of explaining this to people.

“Then there’s the shifters.”

Don glanced at Dean and asked, “What’s that?”

“Things that take on the shape of whatever human they touch.”

“Don it was a shape shifter that was killed in St. Lewis not Dean.” Ian supplied. “Same with the bank in Milwaukee.”

“How do you know?”

“They showed me one. I was hunting a fugitive that was in two places at once. They caught both of them and we figured out which one was the real killer.”

Dean laughed, “In that case it was both. Creative sons of bitches those two. Providing alibis for each other. Letting one get caught while the other keeps killing. When the shifter walked out of jail as a guard we were called in by a buddy. We had that shifter switch into one of us to prove it.”

“Ian, you believe this?”

“Completely. I’ve been hunting off and on with them for about a year. And man Eppes the things I’ve seen… Trust me ok. These guys can help.”

“All right. How do we keep them from getting identified?”

“Easy. I give them ID’s that’ll hold up.” Ian handed the brothers badges.

“Agent Dean Edgerton huh?”

“And Sam… we your family now Ian?”

“In this case yes. You’re my cousins. The bureau is behind the identities. They’ve backstopped you so if anyone does a facial rec it’ll come back to these names. They want you in legit; they’re even paying you as consultants.”

“Awesome. Thanks man.”

“Now.” Dean clasped his hands in front of them and rubbed them together. Flashing an excited grin toward his brother. “We have a crime scene to examine before your people mess up whatever ritual evidence there is.” 

“Yeah, yeah let’s go.” Don muttered, turning toward the door. “Edgerton, Charlie isn’t going to like this.”

“The professor will manage.”

They slipped out into the night and cautiously made their way toward the crime scene. “What professor?”

“My brother Charlie Eppes. He’s a math genius and _hates_ it when I bring in experts on the occult. He doesn’t believe in magic or god or anything you can’t see.”

Ian agreed with that assessment, but he also knew there was a way to deal with it. “If you show him proof he believes it. We just need to show him.”

“Yeah and the psychic. He had proof but Charlie…”

“Dude, we have trouble believing in psychics. Most of ‘em are witches who’ve sold their soul to demons. Don’t trust a psychic unless you call us and tell us who it is. We can vet them for you. Who’d you have in?”

“Doesn’t matter. He got hit by a car and died.” Don couldn’t help but smirk. Sam and Dean laughed outright.

“What, he didn’t see it coming?”

“Dean…” Sam groaned.

“Guy’s name was Simon Kraft.”

“Kraft? Oh man…” Sam shot Dean a significant look.

“That guy was mostly a fraud. He also wasn’t a psychic he was a medium. He got all his info from the dead. He just didn’t advertise that cause no one in his precious CIA would believe him. He actually led you to the killer?”

“More or less. It was mostly the video camera recording of his death that solved it. Charlie was real smug.”

“Well if it’ll help any, we don’t use any mojo when we gank these bitches. We use good old fashioned detective work and brute force. If we have too we’ll use hex bags, a few spells, protection magic, but mostly we got an angel to do that stuff for us.”

“Say what?” Don stopped cold on the front lawn of the scene.

“They are quite serious. I’ve met Castiel. He is uh… interesting.”

Don  wanted to question them but the most pressing need here was the crime scene so he dropped the issue and ushered them in. His team handled their presence well, letting them crawl all over the place. Checking for hexbags, snapping pictures of sigils, examining the layout of the body. The bits that were floating mid air were all stuff you’d expect to see in a powerful hoodoo working.

Sam stood staring at the circle of dismembered human, blocking out the gore and focusing on the symbols. He reached over and grabbed a pad of paper out of some guy’s hand (who yelped indignantly). Yanking his pen out of his pocket, flipping to a clean page, he began to sketch. He shifted around the room getting different angles. Even going so far as to lay on his back (ignoring the groans about contamination from the CSI’s) to see the patterns in the floating portions.

“What’d ya got Sammy?” Dean asked when Sam finally stood; double checked his work and turned to his brother.

“I can’t be sure until I check the database but I think this is a variation on Old Norse runes.”

“Can you read it?” Dean grabbed the note pad out of his brother’s hand.

“I probably could if you didn’t just take it away.” The pad was snatched away again. “I just gotta figure out the order. What do you think? Top down or bottom up?”

Dean examined the real thing then turned his attention to the drawings. “I’d say bottom up. You have to layer these things right?”

“Yeah likely.” Sam’s voice trailed off as he redrew the runes into the right order. He pulled out his phone for reference, checking in where he needed too. What he got was essentially gibberish but the pattern worked. “I need to see the other crime scenes, or at least photo’s of them. This is a segment of a summoning ritual. A massively powerful Norse summoning ritual I think.”

“Right.” The original owner of the pad said sarcastically. He yanked the paperback, tore out the drawings and slapped them back in Sam’s hand. He flipped back to his original page and continued his scribbling. “We already knew it was Norse. What would be helpful is knowing who’s behind the killings so we can stop them.”

Dean looked the curly haired kid up and down. Walked right up into his personal space and said, “The best way to do that is to find out what he thinks he’s summoning.”

“Oh yeah. Why do you think that?”

“If we know the ritual we know the timeline. If we know the timeline we know the end game. If we know the end game we can figure out who will be targeted when. Name’s Dean. I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced.” Dean stuck his hand out.

“Professor Charlie Eppes.” Charlie shook his hand firmly.

“We’ve been working on an algorithm to define the pattern. We were close today. I wish we were closer but I did my best.”

Sam butted into the conversation. “If you understood the motives behind the crime you’d be better equipped to predict the next killing. Understanding the ritual gives you all of that. And since we can read Old Norse, understand the rituals, and can offer data for your equations, I would think it best if we all work together instead of arguing.”

Charlie looked like he wanted to argue but had no grounds too. “Fine. I have everything you need back at my place.” The agents and the brothers relinquished the scene to relieved technicians.

They approached the Craftsman home moments later. “Man, this was really close to your place.”

Charlie shrugged. “This was one of the possible target houses actually. That’s why we abandoned it for the night.” They entered the garage.

Sam stared in awe. “This is awesome.” The walls were covered in blackboard filled with equations. Reverently, Sam ran a finger over the bottom of one of the boards. He understood about half of what he was looking at, better than most sure, but he’d kill to learn the other half. Pulling his attention away from the pure mathematics, he glanced around. At the centre of the room a clear board was filled with images, a timeline, suspects, and victims. “That’s what I need!”

Dean pulled out Sam’s laptop and logged into the MoL bunker database. He also found as many useful sites on Norse mythology as he could, cueing them for easy referencing. Charlie stood behind him, leaning in to read over his shoulder. If skepticism were a tangible thing, he was sure that the Professor was smothering him with it.

Sam started pulling drawings down, leaving the actual crime scene photo’s in place for reference. He started to tack the runes up on an empty board. He lined them up in what he thought was the right order. After a few adjustments he thought he had the pattern. He started to write a loose translation under each rune.

“OK, Dean start looking this up in MoL database. I’ll hit up the Norse mythology sites and hunting community.” Sam pulled out his own laptop. Everyone was silent as the boy’s did their thing. Charlie watched over Dean’s shoulder while Don monitored Sam’s work.

“Son of a Bitch.” Dean muttered.

Sam’s head shot up, he’d just found some unsettling information himself. They exchanged meaningful glances. “Hel.”

“This douche-nozzle is trying to summon Hel.”

“The Norse goddess of the underworld.” Sam finished for his brother.

Charlie rolled his eyes. Don looked between the brothers. “So what does that mean? How far into the ritual do you think they are?”

“Almost done. I figure one or two more rituals and we will be facing Hel on earth.” Sam sighed. “Do you think this one needs a vessel or will she come through whole?”

“I say we don’t find out. Are there any patterns to the locations of the killings?”

Charlie tried to answer but Sam overrode him. Pointing to the equations that presented a geographic profile of the killings. “Yes. These show probabilities for tonight’s killings and with a bit of…” Sam’s voice trailed off. He wandered around the room, taking in all the data. Then he approached the maps. Running his finger through the patterns until he pointed at a location. “Here. In twelve hours, this is the location.”

“How do you know?” Don asked, curious. He’d never seen anyone interpret his brother’s work so quickly.

“I don’t know. Instinct?”

“Hardly.” Charlie said. He’d moved away from Dean and was scribbling equations. “Sam where did you study math?”

“I didn’t. I went to law school at Stanford.”

“You are wasted on law enforcement.” Charlie finished a few more lines and arrived at a conclusion. “He’s right. The math checks out.”

Ian spoke up for the first time in hours. “So what do we get to look forward too if Hel walks the earth?”

“Plagues.” Dean responded. “Death and disease. It says here if she sweeps through a town with a broom everyone dies. If she sweeps through with a rake, some survive.”

“How do we kill her if she comes?”

“No idea. This is God action man. Loki needs a wooden stake to the heart but he’s a demi-god. We’re likely gonna have to call Cas or maybe find out if Gabriel is back from the dead yet, Chuck did say he’d try when he got stronger.”

“Gabriel’s not a bad idea. Loki is Hel’s father right?”

“Wouldn’t that make her a Nephilim?”

“No her mother, Angrboða, is a giant not a human. I’m not sure what she’d be half-angel have giant? Evil we know that for sure.”

“Can’t you go into your genetic history there big guy? What does your giant ancestry tell you?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Shut up Dean.”

“So if we can’t get Gabe to back us up and the Angels won’t help, we need a backup plan.”

“Let’s focus on prevention. We need to profile who would want to bring her here.”

“Right so who would care if Hel got brought back to earth?”

“Likely a _völva.”_

Dean snickered, “A vulvae? Really Sammy?”

“You are such a child. The anglicized version is Vala and since I’d like to get some work done we’re going with that. Basically, she’s a Norse priestess. A witch.”

“Hah, called it. This is totally a witchy thing to do.”

“Right so we need to figure out who’s been dabbling with Norse witchcraft. We gank her, we end this.” Sam and Dean pushed past their silent observers to the suspect and victim pool. “We need complete profiles on these people. Also has anyone gotten sick or started behaving strangely after talking to one of the witnesses, suspects or victim family members?”

It took a few hours, but they managed to narrow down the list of suspects. Then they moved to the expected location. Sam, Dean, Edgerton, and Don ghosted in and removed the startled family from their home, then replaced them. 

The rest was over fairly quickly. The Vala sneaked in through an unlocked window and walked right into a trap. She was restrained and dragged off the property. Don was reluctant to kill her as she they had no concrete proof that she was responsible. Even if she’d thrown him against the wall with her mind. But when she escaped her bindings shot a few dozen curses at them, Dean, Sam and Ian hit her with three witch killing bullets at once. She dropped like a stone. Sam didn’t hesitate, he yanked out a bottle of lighter fluid, salt and a lighter and burned her body. As she burned the wind kicked up briefly tossing debris around them. A loud clap of thunder sounded and lightening struck the flames. Then it was all over; her body nothing but ash.

“So how the hell do we explain that to the brass?” Don asked.

“Uh, she escaped and lit herself on fire rather than getting tossed in jail?” Sam offered. They looked at him incredulously. “What? It’s not like this is a part we ever stay for. We don’t write reports.”

“You do now.” Don grumbled. “I brought you in as consultants. You have to do the paperwork.” 

Dean groaned. Sam simply nodded. “We’ll figure something out. Maybe say she told us she was trying to finish her ritual.”

“That makes more sense.” Ian agreed. “We need to write one for the Brass and one for the higher ups. One has the truth one is for the masses.”

It took a day or two to figure out a satisfactory story. During that time Sam and Dean stayed at Charlie’s, slowly getting to know their newest contacts. Charlie was skeptical but Sam’s innate understanding of math seemed to convince him that they weren’t entirely crazy.

As the impala drove off into the sunset the brothers smiled contentedly at each other. Don and Charlie might actually be considered friends some day. It was nice to have someone like that.


	3. Genomic Homicide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam calls for back up. Charlie and Don arrive to help solve a complicated case. Dean nearly kills everyone and Castiel stops him.
> 
> Please read and review! This story is finally starting to take shape (Thank you Sam and Charlie for cooperating)

Sam stared at the equations in front of him in disbelief. Every square millimeter of wall, floor, and ceiling was lined with cramped, glowing, hand written mathematics. He had no idea where to start and even less of an idea how these numbers were translating into the spontaneous human combustion.

Dean had given up hours ago. Perhaps it was the Mark of Cain. Perhaps it was the sheer quantity of numbers strung out before him but his mind had nearly snapped. Which considering a few weeks ago Dean had been a demon... Sam had told him to leave; sent him to the nearest bar with Castiel in tow to keep him under control.

Unfortunately, this left Sam to deal with a case on his own... again. He sighed, “Where’s the logical place to start?” While standing in the center of the room, turning slowly, trying to take it all in and attempting to come up with a viable theory an idea hit him “Wait! I have a guy for this kind of stuff!” Sam spun and ran for the car. Once there he picked up a high quality camera and jogged back to the room.

Snapping picture after picture; taking time after each one to load it onto his computer, titling it with a date, time, and detailed description of what part of the room it was taken. After finishing the painstaking recording of the problem, he made a call.

“Professor Eppes speaking.”

“Charlie? This is Sam.”

“Sam? It's good to hear from you again. What can I do for you?”

“I’m on a case and I’m way out of my depths. I kinda need some help.”

“Wouldn’t that be more my brother’s thing?”

“Not with this. Could you give me your email address? I have some photos to send you.”

“Sure...” He recited the address and clicked on the file when it arrived. He let out a low whistle. “Where does it start?”

“I don’t know. That’s the problem. If I could tell, I’d be able to figure it out.”

“Where are you?”

“Gold Point Nevada. We’ve got a body dropping every six hours like clockwork and we’re no closer to solving this.”

“The images are great but I need to process this in person.”

“You can’t. We don’t know how the equation is targeting people. You’d be in danger.”

“It won’t be the equation; it’ll be the person who wrote it that’s dangerous.”

“The moment someone dies, the equation glows so bright it’s like someone set a flare gun off in the room. It’s some sort of spell. I tried numerology, but it doesn’t match up. I’ve tried demonology and that doesn’t compute either. We tried just erasing the ink and it came right back. Dean even burned the building down. The room stayed intact. The rest of building burned to dust in a heartbeat, no flame, no heat, just instant dust. I’m standing in a square in the middle of the desert with no surrounding structure.”

“And you’re thinking, find the solution to the equation, find the motive, and then find the witch?”

“Yes. But I literally do not know where to start. There’s no obvious beginning or end.”

“You hang on. I’m gonna talk to my brother for a sec.”

Sam pulled the phone away from his ear and put it on speaker, setting it on the floor to free his hands as he continued examining the numbers in hopes of finding something. It took twenty minutes on hold before Charlie returned. “You said a body drops every six hours?”

“Yes.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Four days. We have fifteen now, another will go in...” Sam checked his watch and did a rough calculation. “Ten minutes. Damn, I’m not going to be able to save this one either.”

“I’m sorry Sam.” There was a muffled conversation on the other end of the line. “Sam, has anyone died from the California side of the border?”

“Yeah, three of them. Why?”

“Because it means that the FBI can help you with this. We’ll be there in five hours or so. I’ll work from the car and call if I figure anything out.”

“Thanks.” Sam said even though Charlie had already hung up. Shrugging, he pulled out a pencil and some paper and started transcribing the entire room starting at the northern most corner of each side and working from there.

He’d barely started when the Sheriff called to tell him that another body had gone up, all that was left of this one was a hand and a foot. He was half way through the transcriptions when Charlie called letting him know they were close. Sam gave him the address and directions.

“Sam?” He heard Charlie’s voice call out.

“In here.” He shouted back, he didn’t even pause in his transcriptions. Grabbing a sticky note he marked off the spot he was at just in case he got distracted.

“Damn, the pictures didn’t do it justice.” Don remarked as he stumbled into the darkened room. “Why’s it so dark?”

Sam flicked on a flashlight and pointed it toward the wall. The markings disappeared.

“How the hell did you guys find this place?”

“Geographic center point of the deaths.” Sam mumbled. Going back to his transcriptions.

“Sam,” Charlie asked quietly. “How long have you been at this?”

“No idea. More than twenty-four hours, less than forty-eight I guess.”

“Have you taken a break in all that time?”

“Another body drops in an hour and six minutes. I don’t have time for a break.”

“Let me take over. You can get something to eat.” Sam glanced at him then slowly back to the wall to continue transcribing. “Sam, you’re no use to us unconscious. Please take a break.”

Sam sighed. “Fine. I’m going left to right, top to bottom, staring in the northern corner of each side. I have done the floor, ceiling, and entrance wall so far. I’m right here,” He replaced the sticky note on the fourth wall near the upper left hand corner.

“How did you decide where to start?” Don asked as Charlie gently took the note pad out of his hand.

“I went with floor first for hell. Then ceiling for heaven. Most spells use a compass as a guiding force so north, east, south, and west. The only thing I know for sure about these equations is that they go left to right. But who knows. There’s no reason why it can’t go every other line, he could have started in the middle, he could have activated the spell while writing everything backwards. The numbers could be meaningless and just a focusing tool.”

“Sam. You’ve been at this too long. You’re over thinking.” Charlie muttered. “Let me take over for a while. Don, take him outside. Make him sleep in the truck.”

“On it Charlie.” Don guided the giant man out of the room and into the desert sun. Charlie tuned them out and started his own analysis.

When Don returned Charlie had changed tactics and was working on locating the starting point by flipping through all of Sam’s transcription notes. “I think Sam was right, way back when he first started this. He started at the southern point of the roof and went bottom to top. I’m sure he’d say something ridiculous like bringing hell to heaven or some such nonsense like that.”

“So what does that mean?”

“I have no idea yet. But it helps me sort out what this thing is.”

“He said it might just be nonsense, is it?”

“No, there’s definitely a pattern. A logical flow. It goes left to right for sure; But I think it goes bottom to top...” Charlie’s voice trailed off as he focused on the writing. Don spotted case files by the door and pulled them out. He’d start on victimology while his brother figured the math. Twenty minutes later Charlie asked, “Where’s Sam?”

“It’s about time you asked me that.” Don chuckled, “asleep in the truck. Don’t worry I left the air conditioner running. He won’t cook.”

“Oh, good.” They dropped back into silence.

An hour later, they witnessed firsthand what Sam meant by a flash of bright light. They were both nearly blinded. “Damn.” Don muttered. “We just lost another one.”

Charlie shook the dazzle out of his eyes. “And we won’t allow any more.” He threw himself into his work getting completely lost.

Don shook his head and waited. Pressing water and food on his brother as needed. He’d mostly lost track of time when suddenly it wasn’t just the two of them anymore. “Who are you and where the hell is my brother?” Someone growled from the entrance. It took Don a second to recognize Dean’s voice it was so hoarse and enraged. “Dean?” Don asked, “It’s Don Eppes. We worked together in LA.”

“Where is Sam?” He asked again, approaching aggressively, a handgun gripped so tight his knuckles were white. Charlie froze, trying to make himself inconspicuous. There was something inhuman about their friend. Something terrifying.

Don edged himself between Dean and Charlie, putting his hands up, appearing as non-aggressive as possible. “In the truck outside. Sleeping.”

“Show me.” He gestured toward the exit with the gun.

“How about you put the gun away and I will.”

“How about you show me or I shoot you.” Dean said venomously.

Then a forth man entered the room. His long trench coat billowed in the breeze. “Dean, put the gun down. Do not make me subdue you again.”

“Cas, I need to see my brother.”

Don did a double take, Cas? That meant Castiel the angel! He was in a room with an Angel of the Lord. An Angel who gave a long and suffering sigh as his hand snaked out and snatched the weapon away from his companion. “He is outside in the SUV parked beside your vehicle. He is asleep. I told you that. Now please control yourself before you hurt someone.”

Dean took a shuddering breath and spoke through clenched teeth. “Take me to him.”

Don nodded and slowly edged toward the door. Cas stepped between the two men, blocking Dean into the corner and motioned Don out of the room. He then stepped away so that Charlie was protected. Dean left. Castiel turned briefly to the final occupant. “I am sorry he is not himself right now. Please continue. You are doing good work.” Then he left.

Charlie heaved a sigh of relief and went back to the walls.

The second Don could he clicked the locks open. Dean rushed forward and wrenched the back door open and lunged. Sam startled awake with a cry. Dean held him down and growled, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine Dean. You gotta calm down dude. You look like you’re about to snap.”

“There are other people here.”

“I called them...” Sam’s blood ran cold. “Dean did you hurt them?”

“I wanted too.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Oh thank god. That’s Don and Charlie. Remember, just before you took the mark we helped them stop a summoning of Hel?”

Dean struggled to get his brain to work, tried to remember so far back. It was like slogging through the thickest of mud. Finally, he managed to get a face for each name and he sagged. “Oh, yeah.”

Sam grunted as his brothers weight rested briefly on him. “Get off me man.” He grumbled.

Dean pushed back out of the truck and rubbed his hands over his face in frustration. “Sorry. Shit. I almost killed them.”

“Where’s Cas?”

“I am here. I prevented any injury. You should have warned us that you called in back up. Then I would have been prepared for this.”

“Sorry Cas. I guess I’m a little low on sleep.”

Don slowly made his way around the vehicle to the driver’s side door. “What are you doing?” Dean demanded.

“Turning the truck off. I don’t want to run out of gas. I didn’t mind if Sam was sleeping but now that you woke him up I’m turning it off.”

“Oh.”

“Dean. Are you sure you’re ready to be back here?”

“I just need to adjust. To get control.”

“Well, do it quickly. I don’t want any more of our friends to die.” Sam got out of the SUV and made his way to the impala, opening the trunk and pulling out a water bottle. “I called them in to help with the math. Well, I asked Charlie to help with the math from the safety of California but he insisted on coming here.”

“It’s too dangerous, I’m too dangerous. They both need to leave.”

“I need Charlie here with me. You should leave.”

“I ain’t leavin’ you alone.”

“Dean...”

“Perhaps I could offer a suggestion?” Cas interrupted in hopes of preventing another argument. All three men turned to him. “Since we left this place Dean, two more individuals have lost their lives. Perhaps the three of us could go talk to witnesses and the families while Sam and Charlie remain here to work on the academic side of our problem. Charlie is no threat to Sam.”

Dean thought about it and ultimately agreed. Sam nodded encouragingly. “Just keep him from killing any witnesses ok? His temper is a bit short right now.” Sam reminded both Cas and Don.

“I believe that you have underestimated the power of his rage Sam.” Castiel replied.

Sam rolled his eyes, “Oh, come on man. How long have you been hanging around with us? Learn to recognize sarcasm would you?” Castiel shrugged and ushered everyone into the vehicle. Sam stretched his aching muscles and groaned. “Charlie?” He called as he entered the darkened room.

“Yeah?”

“Dean’s gone; he took Don and Cas to go talk to the vic’s families.”

Charlie put his pen and paper down. He placed a comforting hand on Sam’s shoulder. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s cursed. He has this cursed mark that makes him want to kill. I’m really close to finding a cure. We have the book. The spell is almost complete. I don’t give a fuck about the consequences. I’m just waiting on the right opportunity to do it. Dean doesn’t want me too, but I can’t let it go. I can’t watch this anymore.” Sam sagged against the wall and sank down to the floor. “I’ve lost so many people, I can’t lose him too.”

Charlie sat beside him, awkwardly leaving his hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I don’t pretend to understand what you guys do. Hell I don’t really even believe that you see everything that you say you do. But I can tell this is killing you, do you want to talk about it?”

“We don’t have time. How long do we have until the next body drops?”

“Three hours.”

“Have you got anything?”

“I do. I know the order, and I think I have the starting point.” Sam put his hand over Charlie’s holding it for a brief second before letting go.

“Dude, that’s awesome! Show me.” Sam pushed himself off the floor and just like that, both Sam and Charlie were lost again to the world of mathematics and, as it turned out, a combination of genetics and numerology.

When Dean and his team returned, everyone had something to report.

Dean, who currently lacked any social graces, blurted out their find first. “They are all related. Distantly but they’re related and you’ll never guess to who...”

“Who?” Sam asked, enjoying the apparent excitement in his brother’s eyes.

“The Milton’s.”

“The Milton’s?”

“Anna’s foster family.”

“Holy crap. Are you serious?”

“Yeah. Apparently, they were the only truly nice members of a rather rotted family tree. They had a bunch of witches and normal everyday human freaks spread throughout the genetic line. I think this is a revenge killing.”

“That tracks with what we have here!” Charlie excitedly interjected. “We’re seeing genealogical coding along with what Sam says is a complicated numerological curse.”

“Exactly. So now we need to figure out who has cursed the entire Milton line.” Sam added.

Charlie nodded emphatically, “It has to be someone extremely well versed in mathematics.”

“And numerology.” Castiel suggested.

“And is a demon worshiping dick-wad.” Dean helpfully reminded them.

“Meaning witch.” Sam translated.

“I hate witches. What about genealogy? Won’t they have to know that too?”

“Holy Crap.” Sam started flipping through the folders in rapid succession, as if he was looking for something specific. Dean recognized the lights going on in his brain. He was confident that this case was about to be solved. “Hervey Mercer PhD in genomics; minored in theoretical mathematics. His daughter was murdered by Scarlet Sanders nee Milton. She was this bitch’s fifth homicide, she liked to torture and kill little girls,” He flipped through a few more pages, “To punish them for unwomanly sexual urges. The police caught her but she died a suspicious death before trial. The names of her victims were scribed in her blood on the wall of the jail cell.”

“We need to locate Hervey Mercer.”

“And kill him.” Castiel said gravely.

“What?” Charlie squawked.

Dean answered for Cas. Confirming the inevitable solution. “It’s the only way to stop the spell.”

Sam agreed then urged both Don and Charlie to leave to avoid any potential backlash.

“I have permission from the higher ups to take whatever action is required. Let’s get Charlie somewhere safe and we can go after this bastard.”

“I’m staying with you.”

“Fine, but when we get to the scene you stay in the truck. Understood?” Sam ordered.

“If it gets dangerous, I will fly him home.”

“What?!?”

“Good, Cas you stick to Charlie like glue and keep him safe. The rest of us will gank this fucker.” Dean snatched his gun out of Castiel’s coat and stuck it in the back of his jeans. He spun on his heels and marched out the door. The rest of the group followed with a little less enthusiasm.

Hervey wasn’t at home, nor was he at work. They found him sitting calmly by his daughter’s grave singing a song to a doll. As they approached, he cried out and flung his arms over the toy to protect it. “Your too late. It can’t be stopped. I have destroyed them root and branch. All of them. They have destroyed my family, I will destroy theirs.”

“Yes we can you demon loving bitch. We kill you it all ends.”

“You can’t. Not yet. I haven’t got them all yet. You can kill me later. For now, let them all burn as my precious baby girl did.”

“We don’t have a choice. This has to end here.”

“Then you are no better than those people who took my baby away from me.” He set the doll reverently to the side and stood to face them. He began to chant a series of numbers, but he only got a few in. Sam, Don, and Dean let fly several dozen bullets between them. The body fell to the ground, blood soaking into his daughter’s grave.

They took some time to salt and burn the body. Charlie gagged at the smell. Sam gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as he packed up the weapons. They made their way back to the property and found nothing.

Then entire building had vanished as though it had never existed. After some discussion, Charlie and Sam decided that as beautiful as the mathematics was, it wasn’t worth risking someone else finding it and using the spell. So they took all their notes and burned them.

The four boys and Castiel headed to the nearest diner for a long overdue meal. In the middle of the meal, Sam got a call, excusing himself from the table. When he returned, he gave his regrets and pulled Castiel and Dean away. When he made eye contact with Charlie, for some reason it felt like he was saying goodbye. Like he was expecting to die.


	4. Hurricane Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam sweeps in to Charlie's office, flips his world upside down then turns around and blows straight back out again.
> 
> Thanks for Reading :)   
> Thanks for Reviewing :)

After their last visit Sam and Charlie stayed in contact it started out friendly, mostly debating the reality of the supernatural, and exchanging information on their respective fields. Then Sam seemed to change, the debates stopped and conversations became short, filled with shoptalk. Things like “Help me figure this out,” and “What would you recommend here?” were the only contact he’d had. Sam was distant, distracted when Charlie called. Then the world went insane and Sam stopped answering.

Charlie sat at his desk in CalSci floundering, he was alone, barricaded in his office trying to understand what was happening to his world. Five weeks ago, LA had experienced a fog that turned people rabid. They’d managed to contain the infected neighborhood until the virus ran its deadly course but thousands had died in the span of hours. The community was still quarantined. Infected people were still showing up at random times. No one trusted fog anymore, and this was California were fog was a way of life (less so for LA in recent years but still common enough.) Any time there was a hint of mist there was mass panic. Riots had broken out. And no one had an explanation for it.

The moment they realized it was the fog and not some man-made thing, he’d reached out to Sam. As the death toll skyrocketed, his calls became more frequent, more frantic. He left message after message begging for help. People were dying. They needed experts! Charlie feared their experts were dead.

Then it all stopped. Over the last twenty-four hours, there hadn’t been a single crime. Reports of a man (glowing and awe-inspiring) moving about LA healing the wounded and bringing back the dead were spreading like wild fire. The title of ‘God’ was bandied about far more than Charlie was comfortable with. How was he meant to deal with this?

His thoughts were interrupted by a frantic banging on his door. “Charlie?”

“Sam?” Charlie bounded to his feet and ran for the door. “Sam, is that you?”

“Yes! It’s me. Are you infected?”

“No. You?”

There was an uncomfortably long pause “No. I’m good now. Where is everyone?”

“We’re under lock-down. Classes canceled. I’m here working for the FBI.”

“Can you open the door?”

“Yeah. Give me a sec; I’ve got to move the barricade.” He’d barricaded himself in at Don’s request. No one trusted the calm. Even if God (who was wearing jeans and sneakers according to witnesses) was walking the earth to save them. In fact, to Charlie’s mind that made it all worse. He finally managed to shift the massive shelving unit away from the door and yanked it open. “Sam, are you...”

Charlie’s question was cut off as Sam tossed water in his face. Charlie sputtered. Sam gave him a very serious look. “Next time don’t answer the fucking door! You had no idea if I was who I said I was.”

Charlie's head snapped up in shock. “What?”

“Damn, Charlie, I’m glad you’re OK.” Then he shocked Charlie even further as he swept him up into a tight embrace. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Fucking it all up.”

“This can’t be your fault.”

“It is. I saved Dean but the cost was much higher than I thought it would be.”

“OK. Care to explain?”

“When we removed the mark, we let the darkness out. Her name is Amara. She wants to kill God and destroy his creations. Oh yeah, we got tricked into letting Lucifer out again. But on the plus side I did meet God, his name is Chuck, I’ve known him for years actually, little bastard was posing as a profit of the lord.”

“OK, Sam you’re not making any sense. Please come in. We need to get the door blocked off again.” Charlie didn’t even get a chance to try to move the bookshelves.

“Barricades aren’t good enough anymore. Here let me.” Sam pulled three thick iron bars and some hardware out of his bag; with remarkable efficiency, he secured them across the door, showing him how to slide the bars in and out of the fixtures. Then he had a can of spray paint in his hand, drawing symbols on the door. Charlie squawked indigently as Sam vandalized his office door, but the paint vanished almost as soon as it was applied. He moved from the doors to the windows, continuing to draw, carefully consulting a notebook before each symbol was applied. “The ink’ll show up under a UV light.” Sam explained. “Here take this and spread it in a thick line across the windowsill and the door.” Sam had handed him a bag of salt from what must surely be a bag of holding to store so much.

Sam pulled up a chair and sprayed several other symbols on the ceiling, then matching ones on the floor. He turned to Charlie once he was done and pointed to the symbols on the walls and door, “Angel protections.” Indicating the symbols on the ceiling, he explained, “Devils traps. Salt keeps spirits out don’t break the lines or it doesn’t work. This...” he pulled out a bottle of something from his duffle. “Is holy oil. If someone is infected with The Darkness trap ‘em with this and light it on fire, it’ll purify them without killing them. Don is getting a bigger supply so you can restock if you need too. This,” again Sam dug into his bag and pulled out a sheet of paper, “Is an exorcism. Learn it; memorize it, if you catch a demon in the trap you have to be able to get rid of it. This will help you.” Then Sam pulled out his cell and sent Charlie a text. “The recording I just sent you works just as well as you saying it so there’s that too.”

“Sam, Sam, slow down? What the hell is going on?”

Sam looked at Charlie like he was the slowest person in the world. “I told you already.” 

“Yes but I don’t understand. You’re going too fast.”

“But you’re smart.”

Charlie tried not to be insulted. Sam was obviously going through something horrible so he needed to be supportive. “I am smart; with numbers not the occult. Sit. Go through it one-step at a time. Start back when we last saw each other.”

Sam finally sat, though his eyes were still crazed looking, he was in almost constant motion. “I got your messages. I’m sorry for not getting here. Not responding. There’s a virus, The Darkness’s, it comes in the fog, and if you’re bitten by someone who’s infected. I got bitten, got sick...” He explained, rubbing at his chest.

“Are you ok now?”

“Yeah, burning holy oil cures it. You’re messages said things were crazy here. It seemed calm enough when we drove in.”

“Yeah, too calm. It all stopped yesterday. They say God stopped it.”

“He’s trying to. But he’s not powerful enough to take on the Darkness alone; he’s practically suicidal right now. We went to get Lucifer back out of the cage but something wasn’t right so I said no, unfortunately Cas said yes so he’s Lucifer now so don’t trust Cas no matter what, until we tell you too cause we’ve got Lucifer out of him. But still, we need an archangel to lock Amara back up so hopefully it wasn’t as huge a mistake as I think it is.”

“Sam, do people ever ask if you’re crazy.” Charlie asked, partly joking, mostly serious.

“Every fucking day man, every fucking day.” Sam replied, he sounded exhausted.

“Right. So, you’re asking me to suspend belief and just go with it?”

“I guess, actually I’ve been thinking about that, I figured out how to prove it to you.”

“Sam you’ve been trying to do that since we first met. I’m still no closer to believing in the supernatural.”

“I’ve got a plan now. I’ll tell you about later.”

“OK?”

“Let me go over the protections again and then we can get into a philosophical debate on magic and monsters.”

“First, is Dean safe to be around?”

“What? Oh, yeah, the last time you saw him he was under the mark’s influence. Yes. He’s fine; he even apologized to Don for his hostility. They’re meeting up to have the ‘protections’ talk as we speak. We performed the ritual and removed the mark so he’s back but the mark was the key to the cage holding Amara back so destroying the mark let her out. That’s why things are so nuts. She wants to kill us all.”

“OK. Amara, she’s what? The devil?”

“No, no, no. That’s Lucifer. He’s the fucktard corrupting Castiel right now. No, think of Amara as the antithesis of God. God brings the light of life and Amara brings the opposite. Think, balance between light and dark. Killing either God or Goddess would throw the universe into chaos because the balance would be thrown off.”

“So Amara would be death then?”

“No. We killed Death. Or rather Dean stabbed him with his scythe because Death asked Dean to kill me. He almost did it anyway but the pictures I gave him. Anyway, that was the call we got when we had to leave Nevada so quick. We heard that there might be another way to pass the mark on to someone else.”

“You’ve lost me again.”

“Whatever, this part isn’t important. A new reaper has taken Death’s place anyway, Billie she said her name was, she said Dean and I aren’t allowed to die anymore and that she’ll throw us into the void when we do, I don’t believe her personally but who knows. What is important is that Amara is a Goddess and God’s sister. She’s as powerful as Chuck, the actual God, and Chuck isn’t powerful enough to subdue his sister without the help of an archangel. We’re here to give you the tools to fight for yourself so we can focus on working with Crowley, Rowena, Lucifer, the rest of the Angels, a bunch of demons, and Chuck to take out Amara.” Sam stopped talking then, a confused look crossing his features, and then he started laughing. It was a hysterical laugh, but a hearty healing laugh none the less. “Ok, you’re right. I sound crazy. This is crazy.”

“Yes. I agree.”

“I have no defense other than to insist that it’s all true. Whatever moral lines we thought we were upholding just keep getting more and more blurred.”

“You wanted to show me protections?” Charlie needed solid ground here and believed that Sam did as well.

“Yes. I did. I can’t protect you directly from Amara or Chuck because they are too powerful. Well, you don’t need to worry about Chuck ‘cause he’s pretty cool but if Amara finds out we’re friends all you can do is run, that’s why I’ve stopped contacting you. What I can protect you from is the things working for them both. Angel proofing requires sigils, it works like armor against them. They are far more effective if they are drawn in blood so this spray can has a drop of mine and a drop of Dean’s blood in it. Remember not to let Cas inside cause he’s Lucifer and he knows getting to you will destabilize me even more. He can’t pass the sigils so when in doubt draw them on everything.”

“Are you going to be able to get Cas back?”

“Yeah, Chuck thinks so, though if he keeps screwing us like this I’m not sure I want him back. So, these are the symbols.” Sam pulled out a notebook and pointed. “You put these on every available spot of wall space and Angels can’t enter. Do you understand?”

“I don’t believe but I do understand. So you’re saying the sigils you put up aren’t done yet?”

“No, I’ll finish them before I leave. The most powerful ones are up already. We usually renew and check them every few days, just to be on the safe side.” Flipping the page in the book Sam pointed to another symbol. “This one has to be done in blood and it has to be fresh. So if you know Angels are trying to break in, start drawing using your own blood. Then when they are all in sight, you slam your bloody hand down on it. It expels any angels in the room. They are shot far enough away that you have time to run and hide. This’ll work on Lucifer too, but remember if they catch you drawing it they’ll do their damnedest to stop you. If an Angel asks to possess you just keep saying no, no matter what say no! They can’t wear you unless you let them. No matter what Lucifer says, he’d burn you to an empty husk in a second if you let him in.”

“Sounds lovely.” Charlie rolled his eyes, Sam snorted in amusement.

“So that takes care of basic Angel proofing. Now on to Demons. Demon’s are easy enough. You’re going to get a tattoo of,” He flipped to the next page, “This symbol for possession protection. As long as it’s not damaged you can’t be taken by a demon. Put it somewhere hidden.” Sam showed him his chest. “The devil’s trap is easy to do, just copy this. Anyone possessed by a demon’ll get stuck inside it. Then you say or play the exorcism, they’ll smoke out and go back to hell, it kind of looks like a mass of black smoke rolling out of their mouth. That’s how you tell if it worked. If you need information from the demon you can toss holy water on it unit it talks, it burns them like acid but doesn’t hurt the meat suit.”

Charlie leaned forward, placing a hand on Sam’s knee. “Right so get the tattoo, draw the trap, catch the demon, say the lines. Burn them with water if I need to. Got it. Where do we put the traps?”

“We have them on the trunk and roof of the impala. At every doorway and window. The center floor and ceiling of every room in any building we stay at. We hide them under mats and press them into bullet tips. However, many you want to use is fine. We met one chick who’d been possessed before, she had devils traps covering every inch of her house. She also had a trap installed around her entire property in unbroken iron. They were sewn into her clothing, covered her car, pressed into the concrete of her walkway. She never bothers to hide them either, she’s a walking anti-demon safe zone. After we saw that, we realized she was on the right track, the more the merrier when it comes to both Devils traps and angel sigils. We tend to use the walls for angel sigils and the floor and ceiling for demon protection. We regularly lure demon’s into traps for information gathering sessions so we aren’t as obvious as your average Joe. You can be obvious about it if you don’t mind looking like a freak.”

“OK, so add a few more traps but not so many that I end up in an institution?”

“Yes.”

“and the salt?”

“Keeps simple spirits and ghosts out, deters demons too. You can use Goofer Dust to ward off hell hounds but you won’t really need that. You can use iron across all the doors and windows too if you want. We tend to do both if we’re staying long enough at a place.”

“Ok. Then what?”

“Holy oil. This stuff will trap any angel if you get them in the center and light the stuff. If Cas shows up and you can catch him in oil and call us, we’ll be here ASAP to take him back home. This stuff also cures the sickness Amara released. You can kill both the sick humans and the Angel with this stuff so be careful. You don’t want to gank the infected people you just want to cure them. They simply need to be purified by fire so a get them in a circle and light the oil. Get them to stay until they don’t have any more black streaks on their body then douse the flame. Fire from holy oil doesn’t go out, spread, or catch anything near it. So you can light it in here without burning the building. It’ll also burn without smoke so it won’t set sprinklers off. It’ll stay lit until someone outside the fire puts it out.” Sam’s cell buzzed in his pocket he withdrew it and gasped.

“What?”

“Emergency.”

“Is there anything you missed?”

“A ton but we don’t have time. I can’t stay for the philosophical debate either. We have a huge mess to clean up something just went horribly wrong... What I will do is leave you with the book I wrote for you.” Sam pulled otu a thick stack of bound computer paper. “These are my arguments for supernatural creatures and events. It also has a detailed list of protections and killing methods if you need it. Keep it hidden but you can show Don if you want. Don’t spread this stuff, please, it’s easier on civilians if they don’t know. You can read it at your leisure and text me any thoughts you have, I’ll respond when I can. You can even test some of the stuff, but I’d recommend taking Don with you for back up.”

“You’re going to leave now? But?”

“Sorry, I haven’t got a choice. Can you handle the rest of the sigils by yourself?”

“I think so yes.”

“Good. Do it today. Protect your home as well. This calm is about to end I think.”

Charlie sat and stared at hurricane Sam that just swept in vandalized his office and now was about to blow back out to sea. He didn’t know what possessed him to do it, but Charlie leaned in and pressed a kiss to Sam’s lips. It was meant to be a quick friendly peck but it turned into a deep and passionate kiss.

When they finally broke apart, they were gasping for air. Sam pressed his forehead to Charlie’s “I’m sorry.” He muttered. “I don’t know what got into me.”

“Sam,” Charlie begged in a hushed voice, “Please be safe. Make it through this alive. I want to see you for more than fifteen minutes next time.”

“I’ll do my best.” Sam stood and unhooked the bars. The minute it was shut behind him, Charlie put the bars back up, cracked a window, and started vandalizing his work space. He may not believe in supernatural beings but he figured, what the hell, it was invisible ink so what was the harm. When his work was completed, he turned to the book.


	5. Hurricane Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Charlie is swamped by Hurricane Sam. Dean is facing his own storm. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please review :)

Don dropped his brother off and sped toward FBI headquarters. He wanted to keep his brother close, but right now, during the lull in insanity, he needed him at school using the super computer to plot the spread of the virus and update the weather grid to detect random fog patches. Don, on the other hand was essentially useless. All he could do was paperwork and rest. He was also tasked with finding ‘God’ to ask him to help in a more specific capacity. The order from his superiors was probably the stupidest order he’d ever received.

Don picked up his phone and dialed a number. As expected, it went straight to voicemail. “You’ve reached Dean. Leave a message. If I’m not dead, I’ll get back to you, but don’t hold your breath cause shit got real months ago. Try being self-sufficient for once, fuck.”

“It’s Don again. There’s only so much self-sufficiency I can manage man, so get your ass over here. They have me hunting down God to ask for help. Please just call me back. If you’re dead, I’m bring you back just so I can fucking kill you again. This planet needs you right now so don’t give up, fuck.” It would probably have been a funny message six months ago, now... he was actually frightened.   

The drive from CalSci to the FBI office was terrifyingly easy. There were no cars on the road at all. The entire city was on lock-down until they could get a grip on things. Of course, lock-downs never work and usually only cause panic so the reason for the lack of traffic was unsettling. Since when did Angelino’s listen to the authorities? The only cars on the road were military, police, and FBI.

Just as he thought this a distinctive black car pulled up nice and close behind his SUV. He could see Sam and Dean sitting in the front, grim looks on their faces. They passed him at break neck speeds then pulled over right in front of him. He did the same. Message received loud and clear.

The next thing he knew, Dean slipped in beside Don while Sam pulled a u-turn and drove off. “I hate this city.” Dean said with a grunt. “But only because of the crowds. What gives?”

“After the fog, the Governor declared martial law in all of California. How’d you get through the checkpoints?”

Dean tossed him a badge. It was the one Ian had given them, years ago. “Identity still works, surprisingly.”

“So where’s he going?”

“To Charlie.” He said by way of explanation. Don nodded. “We need to talk in private. Got a place we could go?”

“You good with my apartment? We’re right near it.”

“Do it.” They sat in silence for a moment before Dean added, “Don’t bother finding God.”

“So you did get my messages. Would it have killed you to return them?”

“We already found him. He saved Sam’s life. His name is Chuck. We’re keeping him hidden from Amara so she doesn’t kill him. Besides, he doesn’t need any distractions right now.”

“Are you here to help us with the fog?”

“Sort of. I’m here to show you how to fight the effects of the fog. Sam’s showing Charlie too. We’re going over supernatural protections 101 with you so you can handle it you’re self. Then we’re leaving to deal with the root of the problem.”

“Are you good Dean? You weren’t well the last time I saw you.”

“Yeah. Sammy fucked up big time so I’m still kicking. I’m not a demon either, though for a while I was.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothin’. Just know that I don’t have the mark anymore and God’s forgiven me. Not that I’ll get into heaven or anything but what do I care. Amara is likely going to drag me into nothingness anyway.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Neither do I. I got Sammy into this mess and now I’m going to fix it. I’ll get Amara back into her cage and everything’ll be OK. Is this you’re building?”

“Yeah. Follow me.” Both men walked with their guns loosely gripped in their hands, ready for action. Dean also gripped a duffle bag as though it were a lifeline. Once they got inside Don rounded on Dean. “Not a single call? All that was going on with you and you didn’t let Charlie know you were OK; you didn’t let me know... I thought we were at the very least colleagues.”

“Dude, I’m sorry. Shit has just gone from bad to worse and then worse to apocalyptic again. I’m exhausted, hurt, and angry. Sammy’s been on my case about going dark side constantly; which I suppose is karma. He’s actually pulled me back from the line a dozen times, so that’s something but seriously. Everything is fucked man.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“What? No! I wanna show you these protections and get back to work. Do you have any whisky?”

“Yeah.” Don rifled through his cupboards and found a half-empty bottle. Grabbing a couple of glasses, he handed one to Dean and poured. Dean downed the shot and gestured for more before Don had managed to bring his to his lips. Don just handed him the bottle.

The next thing he knew Don was looking at a series of drawings while Dean was up and spray painting his walls. “You copy this everywhere you and Charlie stay. The one’s marked angel proofing are Enochian and go on the walls, doors, and windows. The one’s marked demon proofing you put on your floor, ceiling, and in front of every entrance no matter how small. You already have the anti-possession tat, right? Cas stuck you with it last time?”

“Yeah. Where is Cas anyway. I expected him to be with you?”

“Salt at your doors and windows protects you too. A nice thick layer in an unbroken line. If you can get goofer dust and iron mixed in that’ll protect you even more.”

“Dean, where’s Cas?”

“Holy oil is your solution to the fog. It’ll cure the infected up good. Just trap them in a burning ring of it. We sent someone to drop off a shit ton of it at Charlie’s place so you can pick it up and use it. This shit’ll hold an Angel too, and it’ll burn for eternity if no one puts it out from the outside. Remember that, you may have an emergency.” Dean handed him a long silver blade “We didn’t give this to Charlie, but you should have one cause you know how to fight. It’s an Angel blade. It’ll kill lower level demons and any Angel that isn’t an Archangel. Just stab them, aim for head or heart.”

“Dean, Cas?”

“Alright fuck! He’s as good as dead. Stupid fucker said yes to Lucifer. If you see him, dump him in holy oil and light the fucker up.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“No. I don’t, we can’t do it until Amara is dead. Then we can roast him.”

“You don’t want to save him?”

“How can I?”

“I thought he was your friend.”

“Anyone who’s my friend dies bloody. I’ve chosen to not have friends.”

Don stepped closer, and put a hand on Dean’s arm, trying to offer comfort to his obviously damaged friend. “Dean, you can’t shut yourself off like this.”

“Watch me.” He tried to knock Don’s hand off but it was half-hearted at best.

“I won’t. I don’t care if you don’t want me to be your friend. I’m not letting go.”

“Staying near me is like suicide man.”

“Dean, you and I are cut from the same cloth alright. I know people like you because I am just like you. You’re saying you get everyone killed, that you don’t want anyone around but I can see right through it. I can help you. If you talk to me.”

Dean took a gasping breath. Since the mark came off, he hadn’t been able to talk to anyone but Sam. He desperately wanted to reach out. “I can’t.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Cas knows.”

“He knows what?”

“That I like you.”

This caught Don off guard. What the hell did he mean by like? It almost sounded like a schoolyard crush. Don looked him right in the eye to try to see a deeper meaning and caught tears welling up in them. “So?” He asked. “What does that matter?”

“What Cas knows, Lucifer knows! And Lucifer wants nothing more than to torture Sam and me. You’re a target. I need to distance myself from you. Sam’s gotta cut Charlie out too. We can’t risk having personal connections. We’re literally working with the King of Hell and all his minions, the Devil himself, an ex-god who was the former scribe of god, a God and his host—what’s left of them—and an evil witch. More than half of those are going to come after us once this is over, if we aren’t dead by then. And the first thing evil like that does, it go after your friends and family. The worst is if we fail and Amara takes over, although none of you will notice. It’ll just be me, standing at her side unable to kill her, completely alone in the dark.” Dean gasped again, so close to tears it was embarrassing.

Don went against his usual Alpha Male behavior and dragged Dean into a hug. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Stay alive. Please just stay alive.” He mumbled into the hug. His body shaking with suppressed emotions. “Maybe help Sam if I don’t make it out.” The two men, one a hardened FBI agent, the other a battle weary warrior simply stood there, holding each other for the longest time. “Promise me.” Dean finally whispered. “That if one of us doesn’t make it that you and Charlie will try to pick up the one that’s left. Your brothers, you’ll understand. We got nobody left.”

“I promise. I promise.”

Just then Dean’s cell started playing ‘The Devil when Down to Georgia.’ He ripped it out of his pocket “What do you want Crowley?” Dean listened intently and then cursed colorfully before hanging up. “We gotta go. I gotta call Sammy.”

The next thing Don knew, he had a book tossed into his hand, his whiskey bottle was empty and Dean was gone. The sound of tires squealing in the parking lot told him he’d need to requisition a new truck. Or just pick it up at CalSci.

Don dug around in his cupboards again until he located a bottle of bourbon. He drank right from the bottle, feeling like he’d just been blown over by a hurricane.  A while later he called his brother. They commiserated on how they were going to survive their friendship with two such headstrong brothers.


	6. Vacation Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don and Charlie are asked to take a vacation and they choose too look up Sam and Dean. When they arrive at the bunker they realize that both Dean and Sam are in desperate need of relaxation too. The next few chapters provide us a glimps into the boys and their developing relationships.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the timeline goes completely AU. I've basically made season 12 non-existent. Chuck and Amara are working together to restore balance in the universe and Sam and Dean are basically retired. The Eppes Brothers are both still working in LA and single (everything that's happening with them is happening post series so it's all AU) 
> 
> I think Sam is a tad OC in this one, but I figure both Winchester brothers have got to be showing signs of PTSD when they are alone so to me it makes sense that the second they relax a bit their cracks would start to show. I also think Sam should have a few memory issues and stuff cause of all the scrambled eggs that have happened inside his brain.

The Eppes brothers were in a pickle. Both boys were exhausted, mentally and physically. They’d been ordered, forcefully, by a combination of the FBI, NSA, and CalSci management, to take a break. Even their father had put his foot down. Charlie and Don were banished from the state of California for at least a month.

They debated what they were going to do, if they’d stay together, if they’d travel separately. But the decision was a foregone conclusion; of course, they’d stay together. Both men were single and had no one else they’d rather vacation with besides; it had been years since they’d spent time together while _not_ working. The biggest debate was what they were going to do. Don was the one who came up with the plan, Charlie agreed wholeheartedly. They planned to look up another pair of overworked brothers in hopes of getting them to take a break too.

Other than a few phone calls here and there (mostly proof of life and the odd warning to avoid certain phenomenon) they hadn’t heard much. They knew that Castiel wasn’t evil anymore. That Amara was defeated. That Lucifer was back in the cage. And that their mother was alive again. They hadn’t been told how these things occurred, just that the fight was over and they were now cleaning up the mess. The brothers were also aware that it had been over two years since the Winchesters had taken any time off and if the Eppes brothers were being forced into unwanted vacation time then the Winchester were joining them.

A single phone call was all it took. Don confided in Charlie that he thought it would have taken more convincing but Dean and Sam had jumped on the suggestion like drowning men to a lifeboat. “It worries me more.” Charlie ruminated. “They should have fought as hard as we did.”

“I know what you mean buddy.” Don reached over and patted his brother’s leg comfortingly. “Why don’t you get some shut eye? I’ll wake you for dinner.”

“Fine but if you get to tired let me know and I can drive.” Charlie smirked over at his brother’s inevitable scoff.

“I want to get there alive Charlie. If I’m tired I’ll stop for a nap.”

Charlie made a token protest but didn’t really mind; he hated driving. He also loved the way his brother’s shoulders relaxed the farther he drove away from home. The last image he had before he drifted off to sleep was his brother, one hand on the wheel, dark aviators covering his eyes, head bopping along to whatever song was playing on the radio, and a gentile smirk on his face as he glanced over at toward his brother. Vacation, Charlie thought, it was a good idea. 

They were instructed to drive to a diner on Main Street in Lebanon Kansas. When they arrived Don called Sam. Sam told them to order a meal to go, explaining that they’d be there soon.

When they arrived, the boys glanced around suspiciously. The patrons gave them equally cautious glares. The server at the cash called out and told them their order would be ready in a minute. Both men nodded, Dean thanked her by name. They both slid into the seats across from Charlie and Don. Dean handed Charlie a bottle of water. “Drink it.”

“I have a water thanks.” Charlie replied, confused by the abrupt nature of his friend.

“Drink it or we walk.”

Charlie looked to Sam for answers and nearly pulled away from the table at the hard expression on his face. Don picked up the bottle, took a swig, and handed the bottle back to his brother. “Good enough?” he asked. Dean nodded. Charlie wiped the mouth of the bottle and copied his brother. Both Sam and Dean breathed a sigh of relief.

Then Sam placed a tinny container of a yellowish looking liquid on the table. “Copy me.” He stuck a finger in the liquid and rubbed it on the back of his hand. Both Brothers did as they were told. The hardened look in Sam’s eyes was fading.

Dean still looked suspicious. He pulled out a tiny silver dagger, “Again, copy me.” He glanced around. The other patrons were studiously ignoring the strange behaviour of their little group, so Dean pressed the blade against his skin leaving a small but noticeable mark.

Charlie wanted to protest, but something in the pleading look Sam was giving him stalled out his complaints. He took the dagger but was shaking so hard he was concerned he’d cut to deep. Don took it from his trembling hands (both of the other brothers tensed and halfway stood, reaching for weapons hidden on their bodies) Don gave them a gesture to sit back down. “Relax.” He bit out then he took his brother’s arm and lightly cut it, Charlie hissed as the blade sliced his skin. Don flipped it back to the other side of the blade and did the same to himself.

Dean relaxed and ran his figures through his hair. “Thank Chuck for small favours.” He gasped out he was about to say more but their meals was placed in front of them before he could. Dean grunted “thanks” dropped a few twenties on the table and made for the outside. When the other three men had followed him he pointed to Baby. “Follow us.” They found themselves on a quiet dirt road parking beside a gate. Sam was already out of the car fiddling with keys and unlocking the gate. Dean gestured for them to exit the vehicle so they did. “Sammy’ll take you the rest of the way. I’m gonna park Baby and your truck. Toss me the keys.”

Sam, checked the clip in his handgun to ensure he had bullets, scooped up the demon killing blade, an angel killing blade, and a sawed off. Dean was doing the same beside him. “Let’s go.” Sam ordered.

“Is all this paranoia from PTSD or something else?” Don asked cautiously.

“We’re still at war. Can’t afford to be tired yet.” Sam responded gruffly.

“OK, so hand me the shot gun. I’ll cover our backs.”

He hesitated long enough that Don figured he’d refuse. But then he slowly handed it over. “Fine. Shoot anything that isn’t the three of us.”

Don looked at his brother and shrugged. Charlie pursed his lips and slipped quietly behind Sam and Don. His hands trembling, heart thudding loudly in his ears. Sam’s posture was similar to what Charlie had seen in troop movements during combat drills. He glanced behind him at Don to see him mimicking the taller man’s movements. 

“Thanks.” Sam mumbled. “It’s been a rough few months. Constant Demon and rogue Angel attacks, steadily increasing ghost activity. It’s likely because Heaven’s on lock-down while Chuck and Amara sort things out. We think the reapers are on strike or something because we killed Death, which explains the ghosts. It’s as if everything is bored now that God’s returned and the Darkness is no longer so dark. Like there’s no cause to fight for anymore so they’re just picking on hunters or more specifically on us. Honestly, you picked a bad time to come for a visit.”

“When is it ever a good time for you?”

Sam glanced sharply back at Don, “Honestly? Never. We aren’t safe. Everyone we know gets killed.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve heard that before and it’s not gonna stop us. Is it Charlie?”

“Definitely not going to stop us.” He answered with more confidence than he felt.

Don reached forward over Charlie, putting his hand on Sam’s shoulder reassuringly. “You two need a break away from all this too.” Sam flinched away from the contact so Don let his arm drop to Charlie’s shoulder, giving him a squeeze of reassurance.

Sam hadn’t stopped scanning the area for more than a millisecond until that moment, when he looked directly into Don’s eyes. “Oh, I agree. Since our mom took off, it’s been getting worse.” Then he shifted the grip on his handgun and did a full 360 scan of the area.

“Let some other hunters deal with stuff.” Don suggested. “We can hide away in your place or go away somewhere.”

Sam nodded toward an expertly hidden entryway. “It’s safest here.” They’d finally come up to the bunker’s front entrance. Punching in the codes and using the key, he threw open the porthole like door. “This place is warded against almost anything. You may enter if you hold no ill will toward anyone living here.” The brothers paused at the threshold then stepped over. Sam visibly relaxed, looking calmer than they’d ever seen him. “The only way bad shit can get in is if someone invites it in. So don’t bring anyone inside, no matter who they are. If your mother, father, cousin, or God himself shows up at the door and asks for admission please tell them politely to go fuck themselves. Dean and I are the only ones who can invite someone in. We don’t even let Cas invite people over.”

“Right.” Charlie muttered. Then his protests die in his throat as he took in the bunker. “What the hell?”

“This,” Sam gestured grandly to the space around them, “Is the Men of Letters Bunker, American chapter.” He left them at the top of the stairs as he skipped down and threw the lock that would let Dean in through the garage door.

The pause, that felt excessively long for Sam, ended when Dean called “All clear Sammy, lock it down.” Sam threw another few switches and turned a few locks. They were safe. He braced his hand on the control panel and let out a breath. He felt like collapsing with relief that they’d managed to get their friends here without any mishaps. “The only people with keys are me, Dean, and Cas. We’ll loan you one too while you’re here if we have to go on a hunt.” Sam explained. Don and Charlie slowly descended, trying to take it all in. “We’ll give you a tour later but first let’s eat.”

They were lead from the main entrance with its wrought iron railings and marble flooring into a library with rich hardwood floors and solid wood tables. The boy’s pulled out chairs and plunked down, reaching for their meals. Don chose an empty seat beside Dean, cautiously settling in. Since entering the bunker, it seemed like a weight had dropped off both brothers. Dean smiled welcomingly.

“So what do you think so far guys? Do you like our home?”

“It’s amazing.” Don assured him.

Charlie nodded emphatically, “I can’t wait to get my hands on some of these books. How did you find this place?”

Sam finished chewing before answering, “Apparently we’re legacies. Some old lady left us the key in her will.”

“Not exactly, she left our dad the key to give to us.” Dean corrected around a mouthful of cheeseburger.

“Right, once we figured out that the image engraved on the key was a map it was simple to find our way in here.”

“How much do you pay just to heat this place?” Don inquired.

Dean laughed, Sam was the one who answered, “We have no idea how the lights even work. This place is completely off the grid but has running water, power, magical protections it’s amazing. Back when the angels fell, there was this huge power surge and the entire bunker went on lock down. Poor Kevin was locked in here for days.” Sam realized what he’d said and slowly put his sandwich down, suddenly losing his appetite.

Dean grimaced at the mention of their fallen friend then he glanced at his brother, who’d stopped smiling. He quickly changed the subject. “Water pressure is amazing! Communal showers but we never run out of hot water no matter how many people take long-ass showers.” Dean gestured grandly with his burger. “The place actually dusts it’s self. We’ve never had to clean anything but our dishes.”

“I need that in my place! Whenever I actually go home, I spend more time cleaning the layers of dust off everything than relaxing. It’s why I spend all my time at Charlie’s.”

“And the truth finally comes out. It’s our housekeeping skills and our food you come to see.”

Don snorted. “You mean Dad’s housekeeping and cooking skills? Without him Charlie you’d wallow in filth and die of starvation.”

Charlie shrugged. “Hey, I help out.”

Don cackled. “Sure you do Chuck.”

“It’s Charlie, Donald.”

“M hmm.”

Sam and Dean burst out into hearty laughs. “So it must be a big brother thing?”

“You bet your ass it is Sammy.”

“It’s Sam! Come on Charlie let’s go somewhere where we can get a bit of respect!” Sam tossed his soiled napkin on the table. “I think it’s time the big brothers take care of the younger ones for a change. You boys can clean up. We are hitting the library.”

Sam grabbed Charlie’s hand and raced out of the room, they’d made it just past the door when Don yelled, “You’re both nerds!” and Dean shouted right over him, “What do you mean for a change Bitch?”

Charlie returned his brother’s insult with a cheeky, “At least we have brains.” He hollered back.

Sam just flipped his brother off and tossed back a “Jerk” in their general direction. They were practically giggled at the stupidity of their childish argument, but Sam wasn’t complaining because now he had Charlie all to himself so he could introduce him to the best room in the bunker without the subtle mocking of the older men. “So do you want the full tour first or do you want to get lost in the stacks?” He stopped, leaning against the wall waiting for his friend to make a decision. 

“Stacks.” Charlie answered with certainty. They remained standing in the hall smiling at each other; Charlie glanced down and noticed that Sam was still holding his hand. Sam’s eyes flickered down and let go so fast it was as if he’d been burned.

“Good.” Sam said stiffly. He was so touch starved after all that had happened, he just wanted a bit of human contact and hadn’t noticed that he’d kept hold of his friend. Charlie squinted up at him as if he were a particularly complex and unexpected equation. Sam wanted to move but it was as if Charlie had pinned him to the wall with his thoughts. He wondered what solution Charlie would come up with, hoping that it wasn’t to run back to his brother to ask to leave. He got his answer moments later when Charlie slowly reached forward and gripped his hand again.

“Is this OK?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah, it’s OK. Thanks.”

“We should talk later about what’s going on. I’m not great at that sort of thing but... I’m worried about you.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s just been a rough few months—well years really—OK maybe a decade.”

“Well, when you’re ready. I’ll be here.”

Sam pushed off the wall and leaned in dangerously close, wanting nothing more than to sweep the man up into a tight embrace. “Thanks.” Then he pulled his friend in the direction of the secondary library. He pushed the huge oak doors open wide and gestured for Charlie to enter before him.

The sight took Charlie’s breath way. The place was stacked floor to ceiling with books. The center of the room sported a huge table with several lamps set into the marble set at equal distances. Along the far wall were blackboards filled with equations. “Is this your work?” He asked Sam as he dropped the other man’s hand and approached the boards.

“Nah, I found them. I’ve been planning to bring you out here to show you eventually. I... kinda... I guess.” Sam trailed off confused for a moment, then he regrouped before Charlie could interject. “This place was building in 1935 and abandoned in 1958 when a Knight of Hell killed almost all the Men of Letters, including my dad’s father. So any of the writing will be from the fifties at the very latest. Except the stuff on these,” Sam pointed toward a few blackboards beside the entrance. “Those are mine.” Charlie left off examining the older stuff and went over to Sam’s work. “This place is one of the largest repositories of magical and supernatural information in North America as far as we can tell. We’ve been working on cataloguing it and getting it set up electronically. Our friend’s Kevin who died a few years back, and Charlie... she uh, she was murdered right before we got the mark off Dean, they started uploading stuff but it’s kinda stopped since then. I lack the programming skills to finish what they were doing.” Sam rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“Are you asking for help? I am supposed to be on vacation and Don’ll kill me if I start a project this big.”

“No, God, I’m not asking I’m just, I guess, I’m sort of...”

“Explaining?”

“Yeah, exactly. I mean if we get bored or something we can always come check some stuff out but...”

“Sam don’t be so awkward, you remind me of me. I’ll help as much as I can. So, show me what’s what.”

“I figured I’d just let you lose and watch.” Sam’s skin caught fire in a blush that splashed red from his neck to his hairline.

Charlie nodded and started running his fingers over the spines of books. Reading as he moved. “I’m not seeing supernatural stuff.”

“There’s some here but not much. I’ve been separating the documents out into sections. It makes the research process easier cause we aren’t getting distracted by irrelevant things. I’ve got a lore library, a magic library, a sciences library, a religion library...”

“Seriously? Do they all have as much data in them?”

“Actually, this is the smallest. There’s also the main library with our go to books like compendiums, standard religious texts, monster manuals, and so on. I haven’t even scratched the surface of the books though. There’s still storage, other bunkers throughout the states, hunters are bringing us updated lore books all the time too. I’m collecting new scientific stuff to store here.”

“Why?”

“I beg your pardon?” Sam asked, confused.

“Why are you doing all this? Collecting and stuff.”

“Uh? I guess cause we’re getting old. I’m half thinking this place is a retirement plan. We can settle in and replace Bobby as the go to lore guy. I think Dean’ll keep hunting longer than me but who knows? He’s been passing off hunts out of state for weeks now. Giving them to other, younger, hunters. I don’t think we’ve gone much past the Kansas border in almost a month. I’m still willing to take the bigger hunts but I can’t help but feel we’re better off rebuilding the Men of Letters to support hunters. Maybe use our connections with the FBI and stuff to make hunting a legitimate job. One that pay’s so we don’t have to steal cars and use credit card scams to finance our operations. I’d love to see us able to provide a safety net and training to new hunters so the mortality rate extends past the first solo hunt.”

“Those are all noble idea’s Sam. I’ll help you any way you need. So will Don I’m sure...” Charlie’s voice trailed off as he reverently picked up a text and carefully opened the cover. “Is this?” He glanced up at Sam, incredulous.

Sam walked over and looked over his shoulder. “Yeah, I think it’s one of the first printed copies of Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica. It’s signed by Isaac Newton, it even has notes,” Sam flipped a few pages in, “where he made some corrections. I even think this might have been an original draft because there’s a bunch that isn’t in the final copy. A bunch about the supernatural actually. Stuff he wrote before he went crazy.”

“Sam do you know how much this is worth?”

“I have a vague idea.” Sam replied, a hint of pride in his voice.

“If it were authenticated, you’d be able to fund hunters for years just off the sale of this book alone. I think I’d sell my heart to have this book.”

“Please don’t sell your heart. I like it where it is. Besides, you can come here and visit it any time you want. I’ll even put a note on it saying property of Charlie Eppes, but you can’t sell it and you can’t remove it from the property. There is some sort of stasis field that’s keeping the books from decaying. And before you ask, no we have no idea how that works, it just does.”

Charlie tenderly placed the book on the table and turned to Sam, on impulse he pulled the larger man into a tight embrace. Sam held himself stiffly at the unfamiliar contact at first but the warmth of another human holding him seeped in, suddenly it felt like he was melting into Charlie’s arms. Much to his embarrassment and Charlie’s shock, Sam started to cry, his knees went weak so Charlie guided them down onto the floor and held on. Not really knowing what else to do. He thought back to times when he’d behaved in similar ways and what Don had done to help him; he started to pet Sam’s hair, slowly rocking back and forth. “Shh, it’s ok. Let it out. I’ve got you buddy.” He muttered.  

Sam wasn’t aware of much; he didn’t even know where this was coming from. All he knew was that he was safe and being held, supported, comforted by someone other than his brother for the first time in years. Since, well, Amelia and that had been a dark time for him; he’d done more comforting than accepting with her. He also lied to her about everything so did it really count? Even his brother hadn’t touched him in over a year. Since the mark came off, things had been tense between them; unless one of them was mortally wounded, there wasn’t any contact. He’d long since given up trying to date anyone; it was too dangerous to bring a woman into his life. But Charlie, he was somehow different. Sam adored him. 

Eventually, Sam calmed. Then he stiffened, attempting to pull away. “Shh. You can stay.”

Sam grunted and pulled away anyway. He stood and offered a hand to pull Charlie to his feet then he dragged him through a side door an into a small lounge. He pulled them both down onto a comfortable looking couch. “I’m too old for the floor.” He muttered, his head resting on Charlie’s shoulder.

Charlie chuckled and pulled him into another embrace. The silence lengthened, at first it was comfortable but after a time it became almost oppressive. Charlie needed to speak, after groping for a topic, inspiration struck. “The last time we saw each other you gave me a book and promised to prove that the supernatural exists.”

Sam sat up and looked at him, shocked. “What?”

“What do you mean what? It was when you crashed my office and spray painted my walls.”

“When?” Sam’s skin paled, then flushed, then paled again. He pulled away completely, scrunching himself into the far side of the couch. “When was this?”

“Just over a year ago. When you were still looking for Amara and working with Chuck and his gang. Uh, Cas was possessed by Lucifer I think.”

Sam shifted uncomfortably.

“You don’t remember do you?”

“No... We were a bit...”

“Crazed? Manic?”

“I was going to say tired and busy, but yeah those work. I think I remember driving to LA at some point last year. I think it was to track Chuck, he’d dipped out on us or something?” Sam scratched his head, mussing up his hair so he finger combed it out. “I don’t remember seeing you. The last time was in Vegas... Right?” He asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, we spoke on the phone regularly but other than last year I haven’t seen you since Vegas.”

“I can’t believe I don’t remember.”

“Neither can I. That k... Uh, well, OK” Charlie floundered, if Sam was so mentally damaged that he didn’t remember seeing him, that meant that the kiss they’d shared meant nothing. He felt a sharp pain in his gut, it felt like when Amita had left him all over again. “Do you remember the plan you mentioned? I read the book, it kind of helped a bit, but I still have trouble.”

“The plan?” Sam muttered, “The plan?” He dug around in his brain, the part for non-essential hunting related information and finally struck pay dirt. “Actually, I do. I remember talking to you about it. I thought it was over the phone or something but got cut off before I could explain.”

“It was in person and a phone call cut you off before you could explain. Then you left. So what is it?”

“I’m going to hit you with the scientific method. I’m going to use what you know and apply it to what I know and show you beyond a doubt that magic and the supernatural exist.”

“How?”

“Proofs. I’m going to get you to do the research. I figure if I show you the theory,” Sam gestured back toward the library, “Then show you the practical applications first hand, you’ll be able to see that all this stuff follows laws just like math and physics do. The Men of Letters applied scientific method to everything they did. They have research papers dating back hundreds of years that cover the full gambit from angels to ghosts to windegos. They captured them and performed some pretty horrific experiments on them but the data should help even if the source has questionable ethics.”

Charlie gave a satisfied huff, “I can get behind that. Here I was worried you were going to parade a bunch of monsters in front of me like some freak show pageant.”

Sam shrugged; there was a glimmer of hurt in his eyes at the word freak. “That was Don’s suggestion. I figured that wouldn’t work because most of these bastards look human until they’re not. Dean just figured you need to get over yourself and believe it.”

“Well thanks for coming up with a different solution. Science I understand.” Charlie offered. Sam unfolded himself and pulled Charlie into his arms. They shimmied around until Charlie had fit between Sam’s legs and was leaning against his muscular chest. Charlie sighed, content to rest for the time being.

“Is this OK? Is it weird?”

“I’m OK with it.”

Sam pressed his nose into Charlie’s hair, his lips brushing lightly in what may be classified as a kiss but Sam refused to acknowledge it as such. “Good, cause I don’t think I could let go right now.”

Charlie let the silence lengthen for a time before he spoke again. “Talk to me Sam what’s going on?” He felt Sam’s chest expand as he took a breath.

“I don’t know. Castiel said that we’re both touch starved, whatever that means. He says that’s why Dean and I have no personal boundaries anymore. I think Dean believes him, after today, maybe I do too.”

“Touch starved how?” Charlie asked as he let his fingers weave into Sam’s.

“I don’t know. I can list on one hand the times someone has touched me outside of a crisis when I was in a mental state healthy enough to acknowledge it. Dean at least still picks up chicks for one-night stands. I don’t even do that. I haven’t been with anyone since Amelia, before that it was Jessica. Oh, I suppose Madison counts but she was a werewolf. Maybe Ruby at some point too but she was conniving bitch and a demon so...”

“What happened with Amelia? You’ve never mentioned her.”

“When Dean was in purgatory with Cas, I was, well I guess you’d say suicidal. I was just driving, hoping that I’d crash off a cliff. I though Dean and Cas were dead and I realized that I didn’t have a single soul to connect too and I was done.” Sam’s sucked in a breath. “God, I haven’t even told Dean that. Please don’t tell him how far I fell that time. Please.”

“You have my word.” Sam didn’t seem as if he was going to talk again so Charlie prompted him, “So you were driving and then what?”

“Right. Then I hit this dog, a stray. I panicked. I’d been responsible for so many deaths; I didn’t want to be responsible for another outside of my own. I took him to an animal hospital. Amelia was the vet who saved him. I nursed him back to health. She was living at the same hotel I was in, she’d run when she thought her husband was killed while away at war somewhere. We kind of got together, rented a house and stuff, you know the picket fence apple pie life. The thing I used to want. But I wasn’t happy; I drank almost as much as Dean does now, so did Amelia. Then Dean and her husband came back and I left. She didn’t know what I did; she didn’t know my past at all. It never would have worked. I’m toxic.”

Charlie chose to ignore the last comment, “When was this then?”  

“God, I don’t know. Like three years or something.”

“What was the dog’s name?”

“Riot.”

“Where is she now?”

“The dog?”

“No the girl.”

“I don’t know, with her husband, so is Riot I guess.”

“and before that?”

“I mean the only real relationship I’ve had other than Amelia was Jessica and she was murdered.”

“I’m sorry.”

Sam once again pressed his lips to the crown of Charlie’s head, less subtle in the kiss he gave. “Don’t be. It’s my fault not yours.”

“Sam it’s not your fault.”

“Jess died because a Demon that was hunting my family wanted me to suffer. I shot Madison because she was a werewolf. Ruby was, well Ruby. Honestly, most of the time it was my fault.”

“Well, I wasn’t there so I can’t argue that but I think you are too hard on yourself.” Sam simply shook his head at Charlie and hid is face in Charlie’s hair. Charlie didn’t let the silence stand for long. “Why don’t we grab a book or two and read. Nothing too heavy, just relax and sit together like this, until you’re ready to move.”

Sam felt another wave of embarrassment flow through him. “You really want to cuddle?”

“Just in case the jerks show up, let’s think of something more manly to call it. Like touch therapy or something.” Charlie said as he patted Sam’s leg. He stood and hauled Sam to his feet. “What are we reading?”

“You want light? How about you grab this one.” Sam dragged him over to a small shelf and pulled out a beaten up novel.

“Lord of the rings? Really?”

“You said light.”

“I’ve never read it.”

Sam gasped. “What?”

“Why? Is it any good?”

“Dude, it’s the best. I thought you were a geek.”

Charlie snorted his amusement, bumping his hip against his friend. “Math geek not a full blown card carrying geek like you.”

“Hey, my geek card is the only real piece of ID I have. You read that, I’m picking up where I last left off on this.”

“Stranger is a strange land, hmm?”

“Yeah, sci-fi at its finest. I’ve never had time to finish it. I’ve been carrying it in my bag for years.” 

“Well this is supposed to be a vacation, maybe we should both relax a bit. I can earn my true geek card and you can solidify your membership. What’d you think?”

“Sounds wonderful.” Sam pulled Charlie back over to the couch. They settled in as comfortably as they could get on the tiny couch. Snuggled together, Sam barely paid attention to the book; he simply absorbed the warmth from his friends’ body. Reveling in uncontaminated, healthy human contact.


	7. Vacation Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Don spend a bit of time relaxing.
> 
> Read and review! I always appreciate feedback :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate saying things like this but... Sorry for the delay on this one. Writers block is a bitch and so is a crappy computer with a shit internet connection. Good news: I have a new computer and appear to have broken through some of the blocks. I still don't think this is good enough (but then I never thing it is so whatever LOL) but I thought I'd post to continue the story a little. There is some smut coming... it's just taking a while to build up to. Anyway, Please enjoy :)   
> *****************************************************************************************************************

Dean smirked at his brother’s retreating back. The kid was clutching Charlie’s hand like a lifeline. The smile on his face genuine for the first time in months. He wasn’t stupid he knew how much his brother was suffering. Killing Kevin, losing Charlie (their red headed, very female Charlie), being possessed by an angel, having their mother abandon them… again. Sam had so many scars on his soul that it was a bloody miracle that he hadn’t gone dark side. He started running through the litany of mental health concerns he had for his brother as he finished his meal.

Beside him Don cleared his throat. Dean jumped, startled, he was so use to being alone that he’d forgotten that Don was with him. “What?” he asked defensively.

“You seemed a little lost in thought there buddy.”

“I’m fine. Sorry. Uh, so what do you want to do?”

Don shrugged, “I don’t know. How about a tour?”

“Yeah, a tour sounds good.”

“Then we could maybe catch a game on TV?”

“A game?” Dean asked, confused.

Don shot him a startled glance. “Yeah like baseball? Or hockey? You guys got cable in here?”

“Oh, yeah! Right sports. I haven’t watched a game in forever. Or like ever. Cas got us cable so we can hit up our media room and do that.”

Don shook his head a little, this guy was strange (in a good way of course). “Cool. Let’s do it.”

Dean stood slowly and directed him around the bunker. They stuck their heads into most of the doors. Don expressed interest in a few of the sealed off rooms but Dean assured him that it was best if they left them alone. “Cas said we’d end up dead if we open those doors. I believe him.” Don shrugged and moved on.

They eventually came to the armory and Don struggled to keep from drooling. They had every weapon he could imagine hung on dozens of racks. From a shoulder fired rocket launcher to throwing stars and several others he couldn’t even identify.

“Go ahead.” Dean smirked, bouncing on his toes. “you can touch.”

“Not sure if I should. About ninety percent of these are illegal. I could report you.”

Dean laughed, “Come on you know you wanna.”

“Fine just clean off my prints after.”

“No way, you clean your own damn prints!”

Don smirked then hesitated for another few seconds and picked up Winchester model 70 and examined it.

Dean turned to grab some ammunition for it. He handed it over with a flourish, “Basic rounds. Nothing fancy. Go ahead and take a shot.”

“You sure?”

“You’ll never hit the end of the range with that. Sam and I use jog it when it’s too dangerous to go outside. It’s about a mile one way.”

“Damn. Where does it come out?”

“No idea, Cas says it doesn’t come out anywhere. That it’s some dimensional shifting thing. I don’t know man. Basically, it just is; and it’s awesome. Wanna set up some targets?”

“Sure, lets do it.”

The boys jogged a few hundred meters away and started pulling target stands out of walls and hooking up images to them. Don pointed at a guy who looked quite charming “Who’s that?”

“That’d be Nick, Lucifer’s last vessel before Sam threw him into the cage. It’s a stand in for the devil. Sam’s favorite target. Apparently, he continued to look like that when Sam went crazy after he remembered his time in the cage.”

“Ahh,” Fascinated despite himself, who knew images for target practice would let him gain so much insight into the brother’s lives. “and this?” It was an image of Dean with black eyes.

“From my brief stint as a demon while I still had the mark of cane. I like to shoot myself ‘cause I was a dick as a demon. Nearly killed Sam, if Cas hadn’t…” Dean trailed off, his eyes introspective before he shoved that image away and selected the Alpha Vamp instead. “Even Crowley didn’t like me ‘n that’s say’n somethin’.”

“Who’s Crowley?”

“That’s your question? I tell you I was a demon and you ask about Crowley?”

“What? I figure you’ll tell me when you’re ready. I’m not gonna push. So, Crowley?”

“The King of Hell.”

“Wait isn’t that Lucifer?”

“No. Lucifer is in the cage where Sammy put him. Crowley took over years ago, back when Sam killed Lilith and Ruby. He’s gone back to being evil now but for a while he was kinda nice, but we have a tentative alliance with him. Uh… what did Sam call it… oh yeah! A state of mutually assured destruction. I guess kinda like the devil you know is better than the one you don’t or something. We don’t know who’d take over for him if we ganked him. He knows we can take on his enemies for him, all he has to do is point them toward us. If we die, he won’t hold his power. If he dies, we lose what little control we have over the demon population on earth. It’s all very complicated.” Dean tossed one more image, of Ruby (his personal favorite) up and lead Don back toward the weapons.

Don lined up and took a few shots and smiled. “Love the feel of that.” He said as he reverently placed it back on the rack after cleaning it.

“You like playing with a Winchester, do you?”

“I do. I’d like to do it more.” Don shot back and snatched up a Walther P99. Dean tossed him the ammo while sputtering at his friend’s response.

They continued to play around with the guns for an hour or two before they both turned to the launcher. Dean pouted. “Sam says I’m not allowed to use that. Cas has strictly forbidden it in case it collapses the ceiling in here. Say’s he won’t rescue my stupid ass if I do.”

“Too bad. I’d love to feel that thing shoot.”

“Unless we go find a spot in a desert, we can’t. Unfortunately.”

“We are gonna have to come back here so you can teach me the hand to hand stuff.”

“You bet. But we were going to catch a game, weren’t we?”

“Yeah. Let’s do it before we both get tempted to do something stupid.” Don ran his hand over the launcher one last time before heading for the exit.

They wandered back through the bunker with a brief stop at the garage, so Dean could show off his most favorite room. Then they headed for the media room. On the way, Dean pointed at a door. “That is nerd heaven. They’re probably all lost in books and crap. Do we want to invite them to come up for air and watch the game with us?”

“Sure. Let’s.”

Dean slowly opened the door, conscious of how dangerous it was to startle his brother right now, and stopped short at what he saw before him. Charlie was laying out on the couch reading a novel, Sam lay sound asleep between his legs. His head resting on Charlie’s collarbone. Charlie was running a hand idly through Sam’s long hair.

Charlie glanced up when the door opened and pressed a finger to his lips. Demanding quiet. He reached beside himself for a notebook and scribbled “We’ll talk later, he’s been sleeping for a few hours.” Dean nodded and gave a thumbs-up. Charlie scratched out another question, “Has he been sleeping at all?” Dean shook his head, “Is this OK?” He scribbled, Dean nodded again.

Dean silently paced forward and grabbed a chalk and wrote. “Keep doing what you’re doing Charlie. Thanks. He needs this. Just don’t startle him, he might over react. He’s not well.”

Charlie wrote “I gathered that. I’ll be fine. Go before you wake him.”

Dean erased his message and urged Don out of the room.

The two men were silent as they made their way to the media room. When they finally arrived, Dean breathed a sigh of relief. “Kid hasn’t slept in like for ever, nightmares, PTSD what ever you want to call it. I had hoped Charlie could help, it’s good to see he has.”

“It’s rare for my brother to touch people who aren’t family. He hasn’t snuggled up to someone like that since Amita and him split up.”

“Good, maybe it’ll help them both then. God damn little brothers, causing nothing but worry and annoyance. I swear.”

Don snorted and snatched up the remote. He found a game, hockey, and settled in. Dean grabbed beers out of the bar fridge and chips out of the cabinet above the fridge and settled in beside Don on his favorite spot, feet up on the coffee table in front of them.

Dean sighed and rested his head back, letting the sounds of the game wash over him. He was asleep before the first period was halfway done. Don glanced over, not surprised to see his friend asleep. He very deliberately made some noise as he stood, then he carefully removed the bottle from his hand. He grabbed the blanket off a nearby chair and sat back down. Gently, he pulled Dean down so he was laying with is head on Don’s lap. The only reaction to the move was some unintelligible muttering. After tossing the blanket over him, Don settled back down to finish the game and catch a late-night movie. 


End file.
